


i found my place, i see your face (and it's nothing like i've ever known before)

by hazkaban



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Girl Direction, Hate to Love, M/M, basically they're stubborn girls who don't listen to zayn, girl harry, girl louis, people talk about harry's boobs and louis still plays footie, there's a christmas concert but there is literally nothing christmasy about this, there's about two paragraphs of angst, this is literally just a huge load of FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazkaban/pseuds/hazkaban
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis hate each other but they’re forced to be in the vicinity of each other because they’re friends with the same people. They’re also forced to work together for a Christmas concert and end up falling in love, which obviously surprises no one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i found my place, i see your face (and it's nothing like i've ever known before)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariadne_odair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/gifts).



> i! am! the! worst!!!!!!! i am trash i know this. ariadne_odair i am so sorry this took so long for me to post, ~life~ happened but i know that's not an excuse and basically i'm sorry!!!! don't hate me! i stuck part of one prompt onto another so it's not ~exactly what you asked for but i hope it still does your prompt(s) justice! i really liked all your prompts but this one hit me like a pile of bricks. 
> 
> a huge thank you to [yourownlove](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yourownlove) for allowing me to drag her into this part of fandom and for motivating me to write!! 
> 
> title is from love is an open door, from frozen.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!

“Would ya put your bloody tits away, Styles?”

Harry looks up from her book to glance at Zayn, arching an eyebrow.

“They bothering you?” Harry says, squeezing her arms closer to her sides to push her tits up higher on her chest. Perrie laughs from where she’s sitting on the ground with a compact mirror applying her makeup. 

“They bother everyone, Harry,” she explains plainly. “You know this already.” Harry smirks and loosens her arms, going back to her book.

“For a gay man, Zayn – ” Harry starts simply before Zayn cuts her off with a sharp look.

“It has nothing to do with _you_ ,” he says scathingly, “I’m just tired of all the sad, pathetic blokes that think they have a chance with you. You’d think they’d know you were into birds already.”

“I do love birds,” Harry says dreamily. Zayn’s eyes drop to the sparrows tattooed on her chest.

“You know what I mean, Haz,” Zayn snaps, before a soft look takes over his face. “You’re just always, like, too nice to them? You can say no, you know.”

“Can she though?” Perrie pipes up, earning herself a half-hearted kick from Harry.

“I can say no,” Harry sighs, “but they always look so pathetic after, it makes me feel bad. They’re always so nice when they ask, bless ‘em. You know what I always say, be nice to nice!”

“I hate that motto so much,” Zayn mutters. Harry giggles at him and turns her page, tries to settle back into reading before class starts, but is once again deterred. A loud clunking sound comes into their earshot amidst the sounds of the other cars and students in the lot. 

Sure enough, a small, tan literally-falling-apart car chugs into the parking blasting that new McBusted song. Harry will never finish that book now. She should probably have finished her summer reading before the summer ended, but she was focusing on getting tanned and also reading things she _wanted_ to and also hooking up with cute girls, which obviously left her no room do her actually coursework. C’est la vie.

“Weh hey!” a blond shouts as he gets out of his car with some difficulty and spots them. He jogs over and comes to a stop in front of them, kissing Zayn on the cheek. “First day of our last year at sixth form. Mad. How’s it going?”

“Good,” Perrie replies, standing up and smoothing out her skirt. “Just talking to Harry about her tits and placing bets on how many guys are going to ask her out this week.”

“What?!” Harry squawks, shutting her book and flapping her arms at her. “That is _not_ what we were talking about, well, okay, yeah, we were talking about my boobs but – ”

“At least three today,” Niall says without hesitation. He looks at Harry’s incredulous look and adds, “your tits do look good though.”

“Thank you for being able to appreciate my tits, I guess,” Harry says politely because her mother didn’t raise her to be an animal.

“I’m sayin’ five,” Zayn drawls. Perrie ponders for a minute, a perfectly manicured finger tapping her lip thoughtfully. She looks Harry up and down, which for once has Harry feeling self-conscious. 

“She looks really good today,” Perrie muses. “But I think boys will be too scared of her, which is ridiculous because she is _literally_ a kitten but maybe one will have the balls…”

“So one?” Niall prompts.

“Yeah,” Perrie says, biting her lip. “Hope I’m right though, I wanna win.”

“This is ridiculous,” Harry mutters, shoving her book into her bag. “I’ll see you tossers in class.”

“What do we win?” she hears Niall ask as she walks away. She’s almost at the doors of the school when Zayn replies with “losers buy dinner – Harry’s bet is zero, so she’ll definitely lose”, which results in Niall whooping. Harry lets the door slam behind her as she makes her way to her first class, viciously hoping that no boy asks her out – today or ever if she’s being honest – because she can’t wait for her friends to buy _her_ dinner. Two can play at that game…Or, well, four. 

//

Harry doesn’t see her friends until lunch when she plops down in between Jade and Perrie, giving Jade a quick hug.

“How was your summer?” Harry asks Jade as she reaches over and snags Zayn’s apple from his tray. “You were in Paris with your aunt, yeah?”

“Yeah, it was great!” Jade says. After a beat, she narrows her eyes. She looks past Harry at Perrie and grins. “You’re right, she does look good. Who’re you trying to impress, Haz?”

Harry groans and drops her head to the table. Her unintelligible _nobody_ is drowned out by whoops and a chorus of “hi’s”. Harry doesn’t care who it is. She has to think of a way to stop her friends from a) betting which boy is gonna ask her out and b) commenting on how good she looks because she’s getting a complex, okay? She’s in their school uniform, just like the rest of them. She can’t look any better than she did yesterday or last year. 

(Okay, so she might’ve grown over the summer, somehow, and is now a lot taller. Her legs are super long now, which Anne keeps complaining about because they had to buy Harry two new pairs of jeans. Her boobs also grew a bit, which she definitely noticed, but didn’t think anyone else would, especially her very-into-boys best friend, Zayn. Also her straight friends. And apparently that weird kid in her early morning maths class if the way he was staring at her chest was any indication.)

“’ello all,” a voice drawls and Harry’s head snaps up. Louis Tomlinson is squeezing herself onto the edge of Zayn’s chair, reaching over to pluck his juice box right out of his hand.

“Christ, you’re as bad as Harry,” he says. Louis looks at her then, their eyes locking for a split-second before Louis rolls her eyes and Harry scoffs.

“Please do not compare me to her,” Louis quips, sucking the remaining juice out of the packet. It’s Zayn’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Will you guys ever get along?” Perrie asks just as Liam strolls over holding two extra chairs in his hand.

“Liam, man! You look fit,” Niall says, an impressed look on his face. Zayn shoots him a glare that has Niall laughing and leaning his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “Not fitter than Zayn though, sorry.”

“S’ok,” Liam says, a pink tint on his cheeks. “Lou, I got you a chair.”

“Why thank you, Liam,” Louis says, sliding herself from Zayn’s seat onto her own. “My hero.”

“Don’t let Sophia hear you say that,” Jade warns, and leaning close to Harry she whispers, “Sophia is doing her AS Levels this year, d’you remember her? Pretty, brunette, really smart? Apparently her family moved into a new house, one conveniently located across the street from Liam.”

“Ooooh,” Harry exclaims leaning forward to stare at Liam at the end of the table. “Is it true love Liam?”

“Um, I hope so,” Liam says blushing.

“That’s adorable,” Harry sighs, putting her hand to her heart just as Louis says, “oh, please.”

Everyone looks at her. 

“What’s your problem this time?” Harry says harshly. She ignores Zayn’s _guys…_ , and focuses on Louis.

“They’re both so young?” Louis says as though it’s obvious. She scoffs again, pushing her fringe back. “Honestly, Styles, do you actually believe in true love?”

Before Harry can answer the bell rings and Louis stands up, grabbing Zayn and Liam’s hands to pull them away.

“C’mon boys, we have a class to not pay attention in!”

“We have to do our A Level’s this year!” Liam exclaims, shocked. “We have to pay attention!”

“You are the worst, Payno,” Louis says exasperatedly as they disappear through the doors.

“Harry?” Perrie says tentatively.

“What?” Harry snaps, turning to look at her. Perrie raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t you have class on the other side of the building? You and Niall should get going,” she says. Harry deflates a little, unclenching her hands from fists she didn’t even know she was making. “Also I don’t think you can set doors on fire with just your eyes? So, please go to class and stop getting worked up over nothing.”

“I’m not worked up!” Harry exclaims, as Niall grabs her arm and gently tugs her away.

They don’t say anything to each other until they’re sitting in their English class, waiting for their teacher to start the lesson.

“What’s your deal with Louis anyway?” Niall asks her, head on his arms like he’s readying himself for a nap. He probably is. “She’s cool.”

Harry shrugs and doesn’t answer, their teacher thankfully getting his lesson started. 

The thing is, Harry’s not really sure _why_ her and Louis hate each other so much. It pretty much just kind of happened. It started in Year 10 when Louis moved to their area and enrolled in school halfway through the year. Liam took to her instantly, as did Niall, but with Zayn it took a while. Harry thinks it’s probably because her and Zayn had known each other since they were in diapers and he was wary of Louis, but apparently Louis is just so darn likable. To everyone except Harry, of course. Eventually, everyone in the school loved Louis, and if they didn’t love her, they hated her with a passion. She was pretty, easy-going, funny, _and_ sporty; every ingredient to be either hated or loved. She was even pretty smart, from what Zayn had told her. Years later and Harry still doesn’t care. 

And it wasn’t like Harry was, or is, jealous. Despite not giving herself enough credit from what Perrie tells her constantly, she’s fairly attractive, funny (or not, depending on who you ask she supposes), super easy-going, _nice_ , and she’s got killer hair. It’s a well-known fact that all of the girls in the school love Harry’s hair. Harry’s proud of her hair. It’s very well taken care of and is therefore luscious and full of well-maintained curls. 

Harry absentmindedly tugs at the ends of her hair as she sits through class. Gemma fishtailed it for her this morning and tied the end with a green ribbon to match Harry’s eyes and that snooty girl in her maths class, Taylor, complimented her on it. That’s a win in Harry’s book. 

Harry spends the rest of the class doodling bananas and butterflies on her paper, ignoring the voice in her mind that sounds suspiciously like Liam saying she should be taking notes. 

When the bell rings, Harry and Niall head across the building to the drama room. Drama is her favourite and least favourite class; it’s her favourite because she loves to sing and that’s an important part of their drama class and also because all her friends are in it, and it’s her least favourite class because Louis is in it. 

Harry and Niall get to class last and squeeze themselves into the desk where all their friends are sat, and Harry feels herself finally start to relax. For the first day of school it was a very stressful day but she has a small feeling that it’s not over yet. 

“Settle down,” Mr. Winston calls. He waits while the class quiets down and all that can be heard is the fan blowing in the corner of the room.

“So, you all know that you lot, upper sixths, are responsible for most of the Christmas concert, right?” The class chorus’ back _yes, sir_ , and Mr. Winston grins. “Well I’m going to try something new this year, so bear with me if there are any glaring mistakes.”

Harry has a bad feeling about this.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Harry whispers to Jade. Jade shrugs at her and nods in the direction of Mr. Winston. _Shut up_ she mouths, focusing back on their teacher. Harry huffs. She seems to be the only girl in the class who does not outwardly have a crush on Mr. Winston – or inwardly if she’s being honest. It’s not a secret that Harry is more into girls than guys – she’d say about 80/20 – which is why it’s terrible when boys ask her out. She has very high Boy Standards and they include and are definitely limited to: Matty Healy of the 1975, Zayn (he looks like a marble statue, if Harry _didn’t_ think he was attractive she’d probably be blind or dead, but as for the fact that he is also gay, that’s a no go), and, like, five, professional football players.

“What?” Liam says loudly. Harry snaps back to attention, intrigued. Liam would never ever not once ever in his life interrupt a teacher. 

“Yes, Liam?” Mr. Winston asks, a smile playing on his face.

“You’re saying that _we_ need to come up with and write a skit or something for the concert?”

“Yes,” Mr. Winston says simply. “I thought that as adults soon going into the adult world, you all need to acquire certain skills like leadership, grasping people’s attention with presentations, all that jazz that your English teachers preach to you. It’ll just be more fun in _my_ class.”

Half the class looks terrified and half the class, like Harry, looks confused. 

“I’ll explain it again,” Mr. Winston sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You will be paired up and instructed to come up with an idea for the school’s annual Christmas concert. This ‘idea’ can be a skit, a short drama or play, an original song, a cover of a Christmas song, etc. The only stipulation is that it has to be happy. And lovey. Nobody wants coal for Christmas!”

Nobody laughs. Mr. Winston coughs.

“Alright, I’ve already made up the list –” he pauses to turn to the board, where he pulls down the overhead and flicks on the machine “ – here are your partners.”

Harry looks at the board and scans for her name but is distracted when Zayn starts laughing so hard he slumps out of his chair, into Niall.

“The fuck?” Niall says, looking concerned. “Babe?” Zayn just points at the board and continues laughing, a quiet wheeze that has everyone at their table looking concerned.

“I told you to stop smoking,” Harry says sternly before Perrie’s hand lands on her arm. “What?”

“Haz…” Perrie starts, but then she’s giggling too. Harry scowls angrily at her which just makes Perrie laugh harder. Okay, so maybe she does look like a kitten when she’s angry, but it’s worked to make people think she’s more intimidating than she is, which frankly just makes it rude that Perrie is laughing. Harry squints at the board and feels her stomach drop when she locates her name.

STYLES, H + TOMLINSON, L

“Is this a joke?” Louis says loudly from the other end of the table. Harry tears her eyes away from the board to look at Louis who seems to have the same issue with this match-up.

“Sir,” Harry calls in her sweetest voice. Mr. Winston turns to her instantly, coming over and smiling down at her. 

“Yes, Miss Styles?” he says.

There rumours around school that Mr. Winston has a crush on Harry, which Harry finds extremely ridiculous, but sometimes uses to her advantages. Usually it’s “can I have an extra day for this assignment?” which results in the entire class having an extension, so really, nobody can get mad at her for it. Also her friends know that she wouldn’t touch Mr. Winston with a ten-foot pole. His eyes are super beady and it creeps her out.

“Why can’t we make our own partners?” Harry asks, sticking out her bottom lip just a little bit – the way that makes even Zayn do what she wants. Her friends don’t call her Kitten Styles for nothing. 

“Sorry, Miss Styles, not this time,” Mr. Winston says apologetically. “Another thing you all need to learn in the adult world is working with people that you may not, ahem, get along with…”

“You did this on purpose?” Louis says incredulously, pushing her hair out of her face. It’s getting quite long and it seems as though she forget to bring a hair tie today. It’s a shame Harry needs to have an extra hair tie on her wrist at all times for absolutely no reason at all or she’d give her it. 

“Yes, Miss Tomlinson,” Mr. Winston sighs, turning and walking back to the front of the class. “Now, you have until next Friday to submit your proposals to me. It should include a well thought out plan and how you expect to execute it. I’ll give you approvals and declines by the following Monday. If you get a decline on your proposal you have two more days to think of something, and if you _still_ get a decline you’ll have to do something for the concert that I thought up, and I know nobody wants that!”

The class collectively grins and laughs, smiling at their partners, standing up and getting their stuff to go as the final bell rings. Except Harry, who sits quite still staring at the board.

“C’mon Harry,” Perrie says, touching her shoulder. “I’ll drive you home.” Harry heaves a sigh and stands, grabbing her bag, and follows Perrie out of the room quietly as the class filters out. She can hear Louis complaining loudly to Liam a little ways behind them. 

“I don’t want to work with her, Liam,” she says, a hitch of a whine in her voice.

“Get over it,” Liam says, sighing. “Harry’s really smart, she’ll be a good partner. Stop worrying.” Harry feels a surge of love for Liam. 

“I’m not worrying,” Louis snaps. “I just don’t want to work with her, okay? You know I don’t like her, and she doesn’t like me either. This is going to be so shite.” Liam doesn’t reply.

When Harry and Perrie get outside, they move out of the way of the crowds to wait for Zayn.

“I’m staying for practice,” Zayn says when he appears, shrugging at them when Harry lets out a yelp.

“You said you’d come over and help me design my new tattoo,” she says, pouting. Zayn laughs and kisses her on the cheek once, then does the same to Perrie.

“Sorry, Haz,” he says sincerely, “but Niall asked me to stay so…” Perrie laughs but Harry narrows her eyes.

“I don’t know if you’re actually sorry or if you’re just saying that cos you knew the true love thing would get me to comply,” she says, folding her arms over her chest, blazer laying limping in them. 

“You’ll never know!” Zayn sing-songs as he turns towards the field, meeting up with Niall who appears out of nowhere. They link hands as they cross the field towards the bleachers. Harry’s features soften as she watches them – their love, Zayn and Niall’s, is so effortless and full. Harry wants to have a love like that. A love where she can feel the other person close by, know exactly what they’re thinking before they say it. Be Harryandsomeone just like NiallandZayn.

Niall turns suddenly and yells out, “Hey, Styles! How many blokes asked you out?”

“None!” Harry shouts back, thrilled all of a sudden, “Dinner is on you lot next week!” Niall laughs and shrugs, Zayn scowls, and Perrie sighs.

“The one year no boy asked you out is the year you look your best, how strange is that?”

“Maybe I have a huge sign on my arse that says GIRLS ONLY,” Harry jokes as Liam and Louis come out of the school. They both falter a few steps, hesitating. Louis is giving Harry a look she can’t place, and for once she isn’t sure that it’s an unkind look. 

“Bye Haz, Pez, see you tomorrow!” Liam waves, slinging his arm around Louis. “C’mon, Lou, I can’t wait to see the new kids faces when they see how good you are.”

“Just because I’m a girl it doesn’t mean people should inherently think I’m not as good as boys,” Louis says sharply. Liam’s eyes widen slightly and he starts shaking his head.

“No no no no,” he says quickly, “that’s not what I meant!” Louis waits a beat before laughing. 

“I know Payno, calm down,” she says, tugging him along. “Bye, Perrie!”

Perrie waves after their retreating backs and looks at Harry with an amused look on her face.

“Drama is gonna be so much fun now, watching you and Louis work together for an entire class. What did we ever do to deserve this wonderful entertainment?”

“Shut up,” Harry groans, pushing her towards her car. Perrie laughs at her and unlocks her pink Volkswagen, tossing both their bags in the back seat.

“Food?” Perrie says as they pull out of the parking lot. “Nando’s? Lots of grease?”

“Yes, please,” Harry says cheerily, vowing to herself that she’ll make the most out of being partners with Louis Tomlinson. Hopefully good marks, and that’s it. 

//

It’s Wednesday by the time Harry decides she should talk to Louis. That only leaves them two days to figure out their performance, but Harry has a feeling they’ll make it work. She knows that both of them really don’t want to spend any more time together than necessary. 

“Louis,” Harry calls just as Louis and Niall are about to leave for their spare period, presumably heading outside to kick the football around and laugh at all the students still in class. Like Harry who’ll be in biology. She doesn’t even know _why_ she’s taking biology. 

Louis turns and looks at her at the same time Niall does, just without an incredulous face. Thanks, Niall. Moral support.

“Uh,” Harry starts, pushing her hair out of her face as she takes a poorly concealed deep breath. Taking to your worst enemy is super stressful apparently. “I was just wondering if you were busy after school? We can hang around for a bit and figure out our performance…?”

“I have practice,” Louis says, quirking an eyebrow. Right. Harry _knew_ that, seeing as Niall told her this morning he couldn’t drive her home unless she waited for him to finish practice _and_ go to the dentist. How one kid has so much to do in one day is astonishing to Harry. 

“Oh, right,” Harry says, running a hand through her hair. “We can talk at lunch or summat tomorrow then, no big deal.”

“Or,” Louis says, twisting her mouth up like it’s almost painful for her to say what she’s thinking. “You could just wait around until practice is done and I’ll drive you home? It shouldn’t take too long to come up with something…”

As Louis’ sentence fades into a quiet question, Harry finds herself nodding. Civility. 

“Yeah, sure, that sounds great,” Harry says, smiling her best smile. She figures it’s easier to be civil and classy to a class partner as opposed to acting like she wants to tear her hair out. “I can get some reading done anyway, it’s supposed to be nice this afternoon.”

“Great,” Louis says, her previous almost-nice voice turned clipped. “Niall, let’s go, this school is stuffy as me mum’s front closet.”

Before Harry can stop herself she says, “that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” There’s a beat of silence before Louis actually laughs out loud, a bright curling _ha_ that Harry’s rarely heard come out of her.

“You must not actually listen to Niall when he speaks,” Louis says, winking at Niall who rolls his eyes and grabs her arms to steer her outside. “See ya later, Styles.”

Harry doesn’t reply, just watches them leave, a strange feeling settling in her stomach that she can’t place. After a beat she shrugs and goes back to the table she had been sat at with the boys. Zayn raises an eyebrow at her.

“What?” she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before she plucks a fry off his plate. Liam laughs – Liam’s great – and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“Nothing,” he says in a specific way that makes Harry want to press him, wants to find out just exactly he’s thinking because she has a feeling it’s pretty important, but she hasn’t caved to his eyeroll recently and she sure as hell isn’t going to break her streak now. The three of them settle into silence until the bell sounds and they make their way to class. 

//

It’s hard to concentrate on a book when there’s a footie practice going on. Harry shuts the book she’s reading for her English class and sighs, carding her hands through her hair. She didn’t realize how _boring_ it would be just sitting around waiting for someone to finish kicking a ball around. Sure, she’s waited for Niall before but she’s always had company. Zayn, unfortunately, had to go home to watch his younger sisters, and all her other friends said it was “too hot” to sit outside to watch a “bloody practice”. So Harry is sitting by herself, bored out of her mind, and sweating. 

Coach Alberto blows his whistle and the team runs towards him, gathers into a tight circle, and Harry can hear him going over some last pointers. The team plays their first game on Friday and Harry and Perrie painted a banner that had Zayn glaring down his nose at it, but Harry’s excited. She loves footie – the game, not practice – and she has a feeling their school’s team is good this year so she has high hopes they’ll win. Their team winning the game usually makes the weekend so much better.

Harry tugs her hair into a high bun just as Louis and Niall jog over. Niall says a quick goodbye and that he’ll pick her up in the morning, Louis makes a comment about his braces, Niall laughs, and disappears, it seems, into thin air.

Harry and Louis look at each other in the ensuing silence. Louis is breathing a little heavily, the hours worth of running around catching up to her it seems, and there’s a flush stained high on her cheeks.

“Uh,” Louis says eloquently, “I’m just gonna shower really quick ‘cos I stink somethin’ awful and I don’t wanna disrupt, your, like, feng shui, or whatever…” Louis trails off and awkwardly stands there, clad head to toe in a burgundy and white uniform covered in grass stains.

Harry blinks at her.

“Feng shui?”

Louis grimaces and gathers her hair into her hand, pulls it back so it’s a ponytail hanging from her fingers. “Yeah,” she says, half shrugging, half wincing. “I mean like, Zayn’s just told me that you have a nice house, and it’s like, always clean or summat…” Louis trails off awkwardly while Harry just keeps staring.

“We don’t, um, have like, feng shui – ”

“I don’t think you can actually have feng shui? Isn’t it like, an idea? A concept?” Louis interrupts. She releases her hair and it falls down over her shoulders, tangled together. Harry falls silent and shrugs. Louis waits a beat before turning on her heel and calling over her shoulder, “I’ll meet you by my car!” Harry doesn’t collect her things and stand until Louis disappears into the school. As she walks to Louis’ car, one of the only ones left in the lot, she thinks about their conversation. 

Her and Louis have obviously never been on great terms, but they’ve never had an awkward conversation. Sure, more of their talks have included insults and snide glances, but Harry almost prefers that to awkward stilted conversation. 

//

Louis drives with the windows down and the radio blaring, her wet hair ruffling in the breeze that makes its way through the car. It’s not a great car, Harry had thought when she first slid into the passenger seat, but almost as soon as they left the lot she had changed her mind. It’s a small car, some make and model that Harry couldn’t come up with a gun pressed to her head, but it’s got a lot of character. Harry peeks into the backseat and sees Louis’ gym and school bag she had thrown back there and an assortment of books, food wrappers, and surprisingly, two wrapped presents.

“What are the presents for?” Harry asks before she can stop herself. Louis glances at her and then in her rear view mirror before turning the radio down. She takes the next left as pointed out by Harry and shrugs, nonchalant. 

“It’s my sisters birthdays today,” Louis says, mouth twitching into a smile. It’s a look Harry’s rarely seen on her – soft. “They’re turning five.”

“Twins?” Harry says, surprised. Louis glances at her, nodding. 

“Yeah,” she says, slowing to a stop at a red. She looks out the window and drums her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the quiet music drifting through the speakers. “I have four sisters, these are the younger two, Phoebe and Daisy.” She pulls down the visor and plucks a photo of two young girls, identical from what Harry can tell as she takes the photo from Louis. “Pheebs is on the left and Daisy’s on the right.” Louis pauses. “Or maybe it’s the other way around? I can’t tell in pictures.”

Harry laughs and smiles down at the picture. 

“They’re very cute,” Harry says, handing the photo back to Louis. Louis smiles at her, a small, almost not even there smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

“They are,” she agrees as she drives through the intersection, “but they’re also very mischievous.”

“Don’t know where they got that from,” Harry mutters. Louis looks over at her sharply, a crease in her forehead, but Harry just grins at her. Louis’ face relaxes and she chuckles, nodding once.

“Good point, Styles.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Harry gets tired of it.

“So, you said you had four sisters? What are the other’s names?” she sticks her arm out of the window and runs her hand up and down, coasting on the wind. “Also take the next right.”

Louis nods and does so, easing the car into Harry’s suburb. All the houses in the area look the same, but Harry loves where she lives a lot. She’s only ever lived in one house but she can’t even imagine leaving. It’s confusing to her, sometimes, because she wants to leave. She wants to go away to university, wants to have a life outside of her hometown, but she always wants to be able to come back to her house, her home. 

“Their names are Felicite and Charlotte, but only our nan calls them that,” Louis says, pulling into Harry’s driveway when she points it out. “Fizzy is in year six, and Lottie’s just started year seven.”

“Oh!” Harry exclaims as they climb out of Louis’ car, “does she go to our school?” Louis nods as she hoists her school bag onto her shoulder.

“Yeah, she has a different lunch time than us though,” Louis says, face falling. “Which sucks, I wanted her to be able to sit with me for a few days just so she knows her way around and so – ”

“Older students don’t bully her cos she has older friends?” Louis laughs, startled.

“How’d you know?” she asks. Harry shrugs as she unlocks the front door and leads Louis inside.

“Gemma did the same for me,” she says. At Louis’ confused look Harry points to a picture hanging on the wall. It’s a picture of her and Gemma on Gemma’s graduation day, Harry looking like the awkward fourteen year old she was, and beautiful Gemma, looking ethereal somehow in her cap and gown. Unfair, really.

“I forgot you haven’t met her,” Harry says, reaching up to poke Gemma’s face in the photo. “She graduated at the end of my year nine, and you came in at the beginning of year ten, right?” Louis doesn’t reply, so harry looks over her shoulder to see if she’s disappeared and stolen all of her family’s belongings. 

Louis’ face is bright red from trying to hold in her giggles. The second they lock eyes, they erupt out of her, falling out like she’s never seen anything funnier. 

“You look ridiculous,” Louis breathes moving closer to the picture. Harry scoffs.

“Well thanks very much.”

Louis looks at her, suddenly, a strange look passing over her face. The air in the room changes, shifts suddenly until there’s a strange silence, something Harry had been hoping to avoid.

“Right, sorry,” Louis says, voice back to normal. Harry realizes it then, that Louis had been talking different. More casually, it seemed, her Yorkshire accent coming through more strongly than Harry had heard at school. Now it’s back to a more formal tone, a tone that Harry is definitely used to hearing. 

Harry just jerks her head towards the living room and starts off, Louis following her quietly. They settle on the floor around the coffee table that Robin, her stepdad, made out of wood. As Harry takes out a notebook and her pens, she sees Louis run her fingers over the indentations in the wood, the swirls and the figures that Robin had worked so hard on. Perhaps if it had been ten minutes earlier Louis would have commented on the table, or Harry would have made a joke, but it seems as though something changed in the moment at the picture frame. 

Harry thinks it must be because they both remembered that they weren’t actually friends.

//

Gemma comes home from work to a warzone. 

Well, that’s what Harry muses it looks like when she shouts _shut the bloody hell up!_. Both her and Louis stop shouting and turn to look at the front door, where Gemma is standing still dressed in her work clothes, blazer hanging limp on the crook of her elbow. 

“ _What_ is going on?” Gemma exclaims, dropping her blazer on the chair and moving into the room. “H, why are you brandishing a knife at this girl?” She looks at Louis. “Also, who are you?”

Harry looks from Gemma to Louis to the knife in her hand and drops it onto the table.

“I was just cutting some apples up,” Harry explains, sinking into a chair. “Didn’t realize I was still holding it.”

“Lucky you,” Louis says sarcastically. Harry glares at her.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you, you idiot, I was just talking with my hands – ”

“Holding a knife!” Louis exclaims.

“Okay!” Gemma shouts, coming to stand in between the two girls, glaring at each of them.

“Harry,” she starts, looking at her sister. “I know you would never actually stab someone, but it’s quite unnerving to have someone yelling at her while also waving a knife around.” She looks at Louis expectantly.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis says, extending a hand. “Sorry we had to meet like this.” Gemma laughs and shakes Louis’ hand. Harry is _outraged_.

“Gemma,” Gemma says, kicking her heels off and reaching over to grab an apple slice. “Why are you yelling at my sister?”

“We had a disagreement,” Louis explains, sitting down at the coffee table where she had previously been before the yelling match started. Gemma looks down at the papers scattered about on the table and her face lights up.

“Ohhhh,” she says, grabbing the top one that has unintelligible scribbles in Louis’ writing. “You’re the Louis Harry has to work with for that Christmas performance thing, right?”

“Right,” Harry says dully. “And if you don’t mind can you please leave because we still need to decide what to do and also you’re eating all the snacks.” Gemma grins at her around another apple slice and stands, ruffling Harry’s hair so it falls out of its bun.

“Don’t kill each other, mum’ll be so mad if you get blood on the carpet.”

“I’m a very clean murderer!” Louis calls as Gemma goes up to her room, “I’ll make sure nothing’s dirty!” Harry can hear Gemma laugh before she shuts her room door and glares at Louis.

“Can we just pick something? I have other homework I need to do before tomorrow.” Louis looks at her scathingly.

“It’s my little sisters birthday, Styles, I would much rather be at home with them than here with you. You’re not the only one that hates this.”

“Great, so let’s finish it,” Harry snaps. 

//

The following Monday brings dread for Harry.

Her and Louis haven’t spoken since Louis left her house Wednesday evening after they _finally_ came up with an idea for the Christmas concert. Their idea is short and sweet – they’ll duet a cute song (undecided for now) wearing cute outfits with cute smiles on their cute faces and it’ll be cute. Mr. Winston will adore it and they’ll get a fantastic grade and then they’ll never have to speak to each other again. 

This is what Harry is hoping for, but it all comes down to Mr. Winston. 

Harry can see from across the table that Louis is just as nervous as she is; she’s chewing her lip and absentmindedly twisting her hair around her finger, eyes unfocused on Zayn who’s telling a story that involves a lot of hand waving.

And Harry knows that whether or not Mr. Winston likes their idea it’s inevitable that they’ll have to work together. If their idea gets rejected it’s back to the drawing board and more useless arguments, and if it’s not rejected then they actually have to spend time together – without fighting – to practice.

This is not how Harry had envisioned her last year of secondary going. 

“Okay!” Mr. Winston calls, the class quieting with just the ticking of the clock as background noise. It seems as though everyone is nervous, all of them taking this assignment seriously. 

“While I call pairs up to discuss their ideas for the Christmas concert, please work on the worksheets piled in the middle of the tables!”

“A worksheet?” Jade whispers flatly. “What kind of A Level class is this, I could be learning something, I’m trying to get into – ”

“Shhhh,” Harry says, cutting her off. “Just do the worksheet and class will fly by!” Jade rolls her eyes but grabs three sheets from the middle of the table and hands one to Harry and one to Perrie. 

 

The class passes slowly, quiet conversations drifting around from the different tables as Mr. Winston discusses every pair’s plans with them. It’s almost the end of the class when he finally calls Harry and Louis’ names. 

“Ladies,” he greets, smiling up at them as he gestures to two seats sitting in front of his desk. Harry slides into the chair closer to the board, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing out her skirt while she waits for Mr. Winston to give them his verdict.

“Sir,” Louis says as she sits down. She gives Harry a small smile who returns it before directing her attention to Mr. Winston. 

“I’ll keep it short and sweet,” he says, shuffling the papers in front of him until he finds theirs, “I absolutely love your idea.”

Harry breathes out a sigh of relief at the same time Louis mutters _thank god_. 

“No other pair in the class came up with the idea of singing a duet, which I think is good for you two; as long as you pick a lovey dovey song and do well, you both should get a great mark for this semester.”

“Do we _have_ to do a love song?” Louis asks, a slight whine in her voice. Harry throws her a look and elbows her.

“Disregard Louis, sir, I do.” Harry says, smiling. “Is there anything else we need to do except pick a song and learn it?” Mr. Winston shakes his head and chuckles at Louis’ indignant look at Harry. 

“No, Harry,” Mr. Winston says, “Just pick a good song, sing it well, and you’ll get a good mark.”

“Excellent,” Louis claps standing up, “if that’s all?”

Mr. Winston laughs. “Yes, go finish your worksheets and then discuss with Harry when you two are going to get together and practice for the concert! I am certainly looking forward to it.”

Harry just manages to not roll her eyes, but Louis isn’t so lucky. Before Mr. Winston can tell her off for “mocking a teacher”, Harry grabs her arm and guides her back to their table.

“Thanks, I can walk,” Louis snaps, pulling her arm out of Harry’s grip. Harry rolls her eyes this time.

“I was just making sure Winston didn’t see your bitch face so he doesn’t fail us ahead of time,” Harry says. “Sorry for not wanting to fail.”

Before Louis can open her mouth, Niall holds his hands up.

“Alright, alright, enough!” he says firmly, looking between the two of them. “No more fighting. You have to work together from now until basically _Christmas_ , I am absolutely not listening to you two fight for months.”

There’s silence at the table for a solid few seconds – Niall never gets angry. 

“Okay,” Louis says, breaking the spell. Harry nods and smiles timidly at him before plopping back in her seat.

Niall’s right. She has to work with Louis until Christmas break, which definitely won’t be easy, but it’s something she has to do. There’s no way she’ll be able to survive being rude to someone consistently until then – it’s just not in her nature. She doesn’t have to like Louis, just work with her, so she vows to herself that she’ll try harder to be a little nicer, and hopes that Louis does the same.

Regardless of how Louis acts, it’s still going to be a long couple of months. 

//

“So you and Louis have been getting along pretty well.”

Harry looks up from where she’s doodling carton butterflies – Zayn still hasn’t helped her with tattoo ideas – and cocks an eyebrow at Niall. 

“Well there has to be two of us to actually pass this assignment,” Harry says, “so I can’t kill her just yet.” Niall rolls his eyes and picks at some grass; they’re on a free period in the early afternoon a few weeks after Harry and Louis got the a-ok from Mr. Winston.

“You know what I mean, Haz,” Niall says squinting at her through the sunshine. The air’s been steadily getting crisper day by day which means Harry’s finally pulled out her trusty leather jacket from her closet, but it also means that some days are weirdly warmer than others. She’s stretched out on her stomach, her elbows resting on her jacket with her feet in the air as they soak in the warm sun. 

Niall picks up tuffs of grass and drops them her sketchpad.

“Pay attention to me,” Niall whines when Harry huffs and pinches his leg. 

“Yes, Louis and I are getting along,” Harry says, rolling onto her back, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun. “What else is there to say?”

“It’s just weird,” Niall says, “you two hate each other, but you, like, laugh?”

“I laugh,” Harry deadpans. “I’m so sorry that I laugh.”

“Shut up, Harry,” Niall says cheerfully, “all I’m saying is that it’s nice you two can enjoy each others company.”

The bell sounds before Harry can reply. She shoves her sketchpad into her bag and scoops up her jacket, throwing a ‘bye!’ over her shoulder at Niall as she scurries inside towards her next class.

 

As Harry slides into her seat she opens her notebook and scribbles the date, zoning out as soon as her teacher starts talking – why did she even take a science class? – and instead starts to think about her conversation with Niall. Or lack thereof. 

She wouldn’t go as far as saying that she _enjoys_ Louis’ company, but she can’t claim it’s terrible. Much to Harry’s surprise – and Zayn’s smug grin if she ever told him which will absolutely never happen – she’s found that her and Louis actually have quite a lot in common. They both cheer for Manchester United, which Louis excitedly pointed out when she saw a scarf hanging in Harry’s room, and they subsequently spent a good chunk of an hour discussing future prospects instead of actually practicing their duet. They both adore romantic comedies, even if Louis refuses to admit it to anyone else; Harry didn’t even laugh when she said her favourite movie was _Grease_. (Louis definitely laughed when Harry cited _Love, Actually_ as her favourite movie, but then totally watched the whole thing with her in the Styles’ basement.)

And they enjoy (mostly) the same music, which was figured out when Louis was flipping through Harry’s slowly growing album collection. Gemma had bought her a record player for her 16th birthday and mostly any money that Harry has goes towards buying records, old or new. She has a pretty decent collection and she’s very proud of it; she had to fight to keep a smile off her face when she watched Louis trail her fingers over the spines.

So, yes, okay, maybe Harry kind of enjoys Louis’ company, but it’s nothing to make a big deal out of. Just two girls being friends while having to work together, pals being pals, and finding random things to talk about; Harry just doesn’t want to admit this to Niall because he’ll tell Zayn and Zayn will _definitely_ be annoying about it for the rest of their lives, and Harry just isn’t ready for that. 

//

Louis is twenty minutes late and hasn’t responded to any of Harry’s texts. 

She’s lounging on her couch in the front room, her phone resting on her stomach as she reads. If Louis isn’t going to come over to practice on time, Harry might as well get some homework done. She’s about halfway through _The Great Gatsby_ – is she supposed to dislike almost every character? Because she does – when her phone starts vibrating obnoxiously. 

“Nice of you to call,” Harry says cheerfully, in lieu of a polite greeting.

“Harry, hi,” Louis says. There’s a frantic tilt to her voice and there’s a lot of static and a lot of…yelling?

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, closing her book. “Are you at the mall?”

Louis laughs, a hysterical sound littering the edges of it. 

“More like a bloody zoo,” Louis says before – “OI! Stop arguing already! I will figure out whose toy it is when I get off the phone! Which I am on now! Please stop yelling!”

The yelling suddenly cuts off and when Louis speaks it sounds like she’s in a cave.

“Are you in a cave at the zoo?” 

“I’m in a bathroom at my house,” Louis sighs. “Sorry for not calling earlier, this is actually the first moment to myself I’ve had since I got home after school. My mum was called into work for an emergency and Mark’s away on a work trip, I’m really sorry but I can’t come over to practice.”

“That’s totally okay,” Harry says, “I understand that things come up! Do you need any help? I could come over, I’ve been told I’m pretty good with kids.”

Louis is silent for a second.

“Are you serious?” Harry rolls her eyes.

“Of course,” she says. “Mum and Robin are having date night and Gemma is at her boyfriends tonight, I’d just be by myself anyway!”

Louis is silent again.

“Louis?” Harry tries. “If I’m like overstepping my boundaries or something just let me know, I mean, like, I could help distract your sisters while you deal with the other ones – ”

“Can you cook?”

Harry starts laughing as she rolls off the couch to slip her shoes on. 

“I’ll be there in about ten minutes, don’t murder any of your sisters!”

“I’ll try,” Louis says darkly. “Also, Harry? Thanks.”

“No problem,” Harry says, smiling. “See you soon.” She locks her phone and slips it inside her purse, quickly locking the door and pulling her bike out from the side of the house. It’s a little cold out, it is early November, and the sun is hovering just above the horizon trying to set. Harry probably should have put a coat on. 

//

Louis’ front door is open when Harry peddles to the top of the driveway. 

Her house is a nice sized house, a bit smaller than Harry’s but definitely enough room for five girls to be running about. There’s a garden out front that’s well taken care of with little signs stuck in the mud with finger painted streaks all over them – _DON’T step on the flowers!!!!_ – which has Harry smiling from ear to ear. She _loves_ children and is quite good with them; she hasn’t met Louis’ sisters yet but she’s sure it’ll be a grand time. 

Harry knocks on the door but from the sounds coming from inside nobody can even hear it anyway.

“Hello?” Harry calls as she ventures into the house. 

“Who are you?” a voice asks, snappy and almost an exact replica of Louis’ voice, only younger. 

Harry looks to her left and sees a girl about ten years old sitting under the front window behind a bookshelf, knees draw up to her chest.

“My name is Harry,” Harry says, crouching down. “I’m a friend of Louis’. Are you Felicite?” The girl regards Harry with narrowed eyes for a second before sighing and dropping the act, scooting further behind the bookshelf.

“Yes,” she says, “but call me Fizzy, please. Get in here.”

It’s a testament to how good with children Harry is; most almost-adults would wonder why she’s being asked to squeeze into a very tiny space, but not Harry. She shrugs and shimmies in between the shelf and the window, slowing folding herself in half.

“Ouch,” Harry mutters when her knee bangs against the shelf. Her legs are so long it’s very inconvenient to fold oneself into a small area. 

“Shh!” gasps Fizzy. “I’m hiding from Lottie, she’s mad at me. Louis has been trying to calm her down, which is why it’s so quiet but soon they’re gonna start yelling – ”

As if on cue, two voices are suddenly echoing throughout the house. It sounds like they’re upstairs, maybe near the stairwell, but it also sounds like they’re right beside the bookshelf. 

“LOUIS! SHE TOOK MY FAVOURITE SHIRT AND CUT THE SLEEVES OFF!”

“That must be Lottie,” Harry muses. Fizzy looks at her, a silent _duh_ etched into the creases of her forehead. Definitely Louis’ sister.

“AND IT WAS WRONG OF HER TO DO THAT. BUT THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT OKAY FOR YOU TO HIT HER, CHARLOTTE.”

“ _Did_ you cut the sleeves off of her shirt?” Harry asks in her nicest voice. It must work because Fizzy drops her eyes and picks at some fluff on the knee of her pants sullenly.

“Maybe,” she concedes. “But it’s because Lou always looks so cool in her shirts without sleeves and _I_ wanted to look cool too!”

“I’m going to tell you a secret, okay? You have to promise to not tell your sister.” Fizzy looks at her with wide eyes and crosses her heart, lips pressed together.

“Louis may _look_ cool, but she really isn’t,” Harry whispers conspiratorially. “What makes you really cool is being nice to people and eating your vegetables.”

Fizzy levels him with a look.

“Eat my vegetables?” she says suspiciously. “How does that make me cool?”

“Excuse me, Fizzy,” Harry gasps. “Here I am, telling you all my secrets, and you question me?”

“Harry,” Fizzy says like they’ve been friends for years, “I’m sorry, but I’m just not sure if you’re cool. I was just making sure.”

“Not cool?” Harry presses her hand against her heart and closes her eyes, fights to keep the smile off her face when she hears Fizzy giggle. “I’ll have you know I am the coolest person to ever exist.”

“Please stop lying to my little sister.”

Harry turns so fast she’s surprised her neck doesn’t break and Fizzy gasps so hard she starts to cough. 

“Louis…hey,” she says calmly as she rubs Fizzy’s back. How did Louis creep downstairs and manage to stand on the other side of the bookshelf without each of them noticing? “Are you by any chance a ninja?”

“Can’t say” Louis chirps. “C’mon, get out of there, your legs are going to snap in half.” Louis grasps Harry’s hand and pulls her up, steadying her by her shoulders when Harry stumbles a bit, her feet tingly from lack of movement.

“Thanks,” she laughs as she straightens herself out. Louis rolls her eyes but Harry can see a smile fighting to break through. 

“Fizzy,” Louis calls. Harry looks round – Fizzy had tried to escape without her sister reprimanding her – to see Fizzy halt mid-step a few stairs up. 

“Yes, Louis?” she says softly, without turning around.

“Come here,” Louis says in a stern voice. Fizzy sighs heavily, her thin ten-year-old body heaving with the effort. She’s tall for her age, so when she drags her feet to a stop in front of Louis, Louis doesn’t have to crouch down at all.

“Are you okay?”

Fizzy looks up from where she’s been inspecting Louis’ feet, it seems. Shock is written all over it.

“You’re not mad at me?” Fizzy asks. 

“Of course I’m mad, you shouldn’t have cut the sleeves off of Lottie’s shirts,” Louis says, sternly. “But she hit you, and that isn’t okay. Does your arm still hurt?”

“Oh,” Fizzy says, quiet and thoughtful. “I know I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry Lou. My arm kinda stings but I don’t think it’s broken.”

Harry fails at hiding a giggle, but falls silent with a grin on her face after Louis throws her an exasperated glance.

“Your arm isn’t broken,” Louis promises. “Go get those peas from the kitchen and stick them on your arm – still in the bag, mind you – where it hurts for, like, ten minutes. And then go upstairs and knock on Lottie’s door, and apologize for cutting her shirts.”

“Okay,” Fizzy says sadly. “But is she going to get in trouble for hurting me?”

“Of course!” Louis exclaims. “Mum’ll hear about this when she gets home after you lot are in bed, so be prepared for tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Fizzy says again, in the same sad voice. “Maybe I’ll offer to buy Lottie a new shirt with my chores money? If mummy and daddy are still gonna give me some...”

“That’s a very thoughtful idea, Fizz,” Louis says, pulling her into a hug. “Go get those peas. Harry and I have to work on some school work, but come get me if you need anything, okay?” 

Fizzy salutes her sister and smiles at Harry. “It was nice meeting you, Harry! I can’t believe my sister managed to find a cool friend!”

“Oi!” Louis shouts as Fizzy runs into the kitchen, giggling into her hands. “What was that about?”

Harry shrugs and winks. “Your sister and I are the best of friends now, sorry, can’t tell secrets! Where are we going to practice?”

Louis looks at her strangely for a second, eyebrows drawn together and her hands still planted on her hips. She snaps out of it before Harry can ask her if she’s okay.

“Upstairs, I’ll get too distracted in any room with a tele,” Louis says, nodding towards the stairs. “I’m just going to check in on the twins, my rooms at the end of the hall!”

“How are my favourite twins doing?” Louis’ voice trails off as she goes into the twin’s room, Harry hearing the tail end of “it’s almost bed time kiddos”. 

Louis’ room is a lot less messy than Harry would’ve expected. 

There’s a double bed shoved in the corner of the room, an unmade navy blue duvet and five pillows scattered on it. There’s a United poster plastered above the bed, and on the other wall, above the head of the bed, are a few photos taped to it. Venturing closer, Harry can see that it’s photos of their friends, some big groups one – Harry’s even in one – and a few personal ones. There’s a photo of Louis licking an unimpressed Liam’s cheek, a photo of Louis and Niall high-fiving after a game, and a selfie that she probably bribed Zayn into taking with her. Louis looks really happy in them, a carefree smile on her face that Harry is just starting to see in the flesh when they hang out alone. 

She’s happy that her and Louis have gotten past whatever was between them before, it was actually quite difficult to be so snappy and rude all the time. Harry much prefers it when they’re friendly. 

Looking around the room Harry can’t see another place to sit, so she sits gingerly on the corner of Louis’ bed. There’s not much else in Louis’ room, the bed taking up most of the space, but there’s a bookshelf filled completely with books, DVDs, and little knick-knacks. There’s a very small desk in the corner without a chair and above it the wall is littered with drawings and paintings in varying degrees of “good”. They’re all very cute and obviously full of love, but there are some that look like the artist is genuinely talented. 

 

Eventually Louis comes back to Harry scrolling through Instagram.

“I am so sorry,” she says, shutting the door and going straight to her bed, flopping face first into it. “The girls wanted me to sing them a song, and then one song turned into three.”

“It’s okay,” Harry says. “I was admiring your artwork.” Louis laughs and rolls onto her bed, smiling across the room at the pictures. 

“The girls are always bringing me some drawing or an another,” she says, grinning. “Lottie’s actually quite good though, always has been, mum and I want her to pursue it once she’s old enough.”

Harry glances at the pictures again and notices the ones that are a little bit higher quality than the others again. She can see that even when Lottie was younger her artwork was still quite good.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Harry muses. “It’s good to guide kids to what they’re good at instead of what you want them to be good at.”

“Did that happen to you?” Louis says softly. She pats the space next to her and Harry doesn’t waste a second in lying down; her back has started to cramp up with how she’s hunched over. 

“Kind of,” Harry says, sighing. “I don’t know, not really. Dad wasn’t super happy with how into the Arts I am, unlike Gem who’s super science-y and very smart – ”

“You’re smart!” Louis protests. “Just because you aren’t perfect in the more technical classes doesn’t mean you’re not smart.”

“Thanks, Louis,” Harry laughs. “I know that, but dad really wanted both of us to follow in his footsteps of being a researcher in a fancy lab, it sounded absolutely boring, even Gemma thought so. She’s really happy at her job – doing media and stats for some digital company, honestly I’m not really sure – and I know mum just wants me to be happy too.”

“Do you talk to your dad much?” Louis asks. Looking over, Harry can see Louis fiddling with the zipper on her hoodie, avoiding her eyes. 

“Not really,” Harry shrugs. “I mean, like we see him every so often. He takes Gemma and I out for dinner a couple times a month… But other than that we don’t really text or talk on the phone.”

“Do you wish you did?” Louis asks. She shakes her head before Harry can answer and rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m nosy. You don’t have to answer that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry laughs. “We’re friends right? Friends talk.” She settles more firmly into the bed and turns on her side, curling up her legs so they don’t dangle off the side.

“I don’t really have the need to talk to him,” she says finally. “Which is probably the wrong thing to say, cos he’s my dad and all, but it’s like… Even when he was around, he wasn’t around, you know? And Robin is great, he really cares about Gemma and I, and he makes mum so happy.”

Louis hums thoughtfully, turning on her side to face Harry. 

“I get that,” Louis says. She’s silent for a second before she closes her eyes. “My dad isn’t my real dad.”

Harry supposes they’re really real friends if Louis feels comfortable enough to tell her that. It makes Harry feel nice. 

“I mean,” Louis says, sighing. “He might as well be, yeah? He’s been here with mum and I since I was five, and he taught me how to play footie and taught himself how to braid hair cos sometimes mum had early shifts and he had to take me to school.”

“Five daughters, you better bloody well know how to braid hair,” Harry says, laughing. Louis laughs and stretches her arms above her head.

“Don’t ever mention this to Zayn,” Louis says warningly, “but if we had learned how to speak to each other earlier without being rude I think we could’ve been pretty good friends.”

“I agree,” Harry says, smiling. “We can start now, I guess. But Zayn can never know, he’ll never ever let us live it down.”

Louis nods solemnly. “I could definitely live the rest of my life without seeing that smug look on his beautiful face.”

Harry laughs before rolling her neck around where it’s resting on her hand. There’s a crick at the base of it from how she’s been lying. Flopping onto her back she notices that it’s very dark outside.

“Shit,” Harry says, “it’s late and we haven’t even practiced at all.” Louis groans as she sits up and tugs her hoodie off. Harry tracks the movement with her eyes, watching Louis struggle with her left arm with an amused smile on her face. 

“We can go one week without practicing, Styles,” Louis says. “We both know how to sing, and we already sound pretty good, we deserve a day of rest. Plus if I have to listen to _Love Is An Open Door_ one more bloody time…”

“You were the one that chose the song!” Harry exclaims. “This is absolutely your fault.”

“How was I supposed to know that the twins were going to re-develop an obsession with it?! C’mon, please, I don’t wanna practice tonight.” Louis bats her eyelashes and presses her hands together like she’s begging Harry for a brand new car. 

“We haven’t practiced in a week!” Harry protests weakly; she doesn’t feel like singing right now anyway, she’d much rather just lie around and talk, possibly some food and some tea.

“Let’s go get a cuppa,” Louis wheedles, as if she can read Harry’s mind, “and we can discuss the technical parts of our duet, yeah? And maybe you can possibly whip something up? I’m starved.” 

Harry agrees instantly – she _really_ doesn’t feel like singing either – and peels herself off of Louis’ bed, the indent her body made rising up to meet the air. She follows Louis out of her room, flicking off the light and shutting the door behind her. Louis raps on two doors as they pass and says, “We’ll be downstairs, and if you’re not both in bed by the time mum gets home you’ll be in even more trouble!” A chorus of “can you make me a cuppa, Lou?” and “I want milk in mine!” reaches their ears just as they start to descend the stairs.

“You know,” Louis says over her shoulder, “I really shouldn’t let them have tea so late but I know they’ll just come downstairs with pouts and I am an absolute sucker for pouts.”

“I have a fantastic pout,” Harry says thoughtfully, “this is useful information for me.” Louis sighs dramatically and flings open a cupboard filled to the brim with different types of tea.

“What kind do you want?” she says. “If you don’t say Yorkshire I’ll have to kick you out.”

“Guess I’ll have Yorkshire, then,” Harry says, “I’m not ready to go home yet.” Louis grins at her before shaking her hair away from her face as she reaches up into the cabinet. 

“For God’s sake,” she mutters, “Fizzy’s always putting the tea so damn high, how is she only ten but already the same height, Jesus Christ I’m going to pull something…”

Harry stays silent as she listens to Louis complain and watches her instead. She’s wearing a loose grey shirt that says _I <3 NURSES_ with the local hospitals logo in the corner, and bright blue running shorts. With her left hand braced on the counter and her right arm reaching up to grab the tea, she has to rise up onto her tippy toes. Her arches struggle as they try to not wobble, but her calf muscles are able to stabilize her. Harry’s eyes trail up her legs, her mouth suddenly going dry at the sight of the shorts stretching tautly across Louis’ bum.

“’ere we go!” Louis huffs, spinning around clutching the tea like she’s just grabbed the Holy Grail. Harry has just enough time to snap her eyes up to Louis’ face. 

“Milk or sugar?” Louis says, making her way to the kettle. Harry manages out a weak, “one sugar please”, before they both lapse into silence waiting for the kettle to boil. 

Either Harry just had a minor stroke or she was subconsciously checking Louis out. Neither option is preferable in this situation. 

//

December 1st brings a light dusting of snow and a mild breakdown.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Zayn snaps finally, throwing a pillow at Harry from where he’s sprawled on the settee. The two of them and Perrie are hanging out in Harry’s basement, except Harry’s just been lying despondently on the floor. They’ve been “hanging out” for two hours and Harry’s barely said a word, save for “give me that slice of pizza”. 

“Zayn, shush,” Perrie scolds, “obviously Haz is going through something, you can’t just throw a pillow at her.”

She pauses.

“Although, if she doesn’t tell us what’s wrong in less than five minutes, I’m going to throw more than just a pillow at her.”

“I’m having a _crisis_ ,” Harry says, throwing her arms in the air. “I’ve caught feelings.”

“I thought we promised each other we had those removed when we were eleven?” Zayn says, and Harry doesn’t even need to look at him to know he’s smirking.

“You ruined that best mate pact when you met Niall, so shove off,” Harry says lightly. Perrie pokes her in the side from her position on the beanbag chair.

“Who did you quote unquote catch feelings for?” Perrie asks kindly. “Do we know her? Is it a her?”

Harry sighs, deeply and heavily, before covering her face.

“Oooh,” Perrie says to Zayn. “This is gonna get juicy in three…two…one –”

“It’s Louis.”

There’s a ringing silence that feels like it lasts for forty years.

This is the first time Harry’s even admitted to having feelings for Louis to anyone – she hasn’t even told Gemma yet – and it feels very strange saying it aloud. She’s not sure she had even admitted it to herself. It’s just, at this point she supposes, kind of obvious – to her, at least. Sure, the rest of their friends are aware that they’re somewhat friends – definitely less than they really are, smug Zayn is legitimately a factor in this whole thing – but Harry’s pretty sure none of their friends expect this. Louis probably doesn’t expect this; Louis probably definitely doesn’t even want this! What is Harry doing, going and falling for a girl with quick wit and perky bum. Ever since that night at Louis’ house where they didn’t practice their duet and instead just chatted and drank tea there hasn’t been a day where Harry hasn’t thought of Louis. It’s a problem already, Perrie and Jade are constantly snapping their fingers in front of Harry’s face when she’s zoned out during lunch, staring at empty air just so she doesn’t stare at Louis’ face. 

“Guys?” she squeaks, not uncovering her face. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Perrie says slowly. “But I think Zayn might’ve died.”

Harry peeks through her fingers at Zayn. He’s staring straight at her, a very peculiar look on his face.

“He hasn’t moved since you said Louis’ name,” Perrie says, snapping her fingers and waving her hand around. “Are you serious, though? Do you actually have feelings for Louis?”

Harry groans loudly, her arms falling to the floor with a thud. The noise snaps Zayn out of his trance; he shakes his head and slides to the floor before crawling over to Harry. He lies down beside her on his back and folds his hands on his stomach, closing his eyes.

“Alright, Haz,” he says. “Spill.”

Harry gapes at him. 

“You go catatonic for like, five minutes, and that’s all you have to say?”

Zayn shrugs and doesn’t open his eyes. “Honestly I’m not all that surprised, I was just thinking about how we’re going to tell Louis.”

“WHAT?” Harry screeches, both Zayn and Perrie cringing from how sharp it is. “We are absolutely not at all ever in our lifetimes ever telling Louis anything! Never ever.”

“But like, never?” Perrie says, giggling. “Honestly, Harry, it’ll be fine. You’re fit, she’s fit. You’re into girls, she’s into girls. Even if she doesn’t like you it’ll make her feel nice.”

“Absolutely not,” Harry says firmly. “As my two best mates you’re both sworn to secrecy because _I said so_.”

“But what if she does like you?” Zayn asks. “And you’ll never know cos you’re being a right baby about it?”

“You are so unbelievably rude,” Harry sniffs. “You were my best friend before you could even _talk_ so you’re going to have to keep this from Louis, sorry.”

“You’re not sorry at all,” Zayn scoffs, nudging Harry with his arm. “Enough arguing already, tell us everything.”

//

The Christmas concert is 10 days away and Harry can’t wait for it to be over.

“Why?” Louis says when Harry voices her thoughts. Harry stops in her tracks where she’s pacing in the music room, probably wearing a hole in the floor. She didn’t mean to say that aloud; in all honestly she doesn’t _really_ want it to be other because then she’ll have no reason to hang out with Louis, which is coincidently why she wants it to be over as well. Too much time with Louis is exhausting. Harry has to make sure she doesn’t say anything stupid like “you have a great arse” or “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” or _do_ anything stupid like brush Louis’ hair away from her face or watch Louis lick her lips. So much of her brain power is being used on not paying too much attention to Louis that it ends up backfiring and _only_ pays attention to Louis. She’s forgotten her lines three times in the last half hour.

“I’m tired of singing this song,” Harry says instead of something like “I can’t be around you because it’s driving me crazy”.

Louis’ shoulders slump and her entire body goes boneless as she allows herself to slide to the floor. When she’s spread eagle on her back she looks over at Harry.

“Haz,” she says. Harry takes a corner of her turn too fast, almost knocking into a music stand; her close call with bodily harm is worth it if it means Louis didn’t see her blush at the nickname. “Stop pacing and come lie down.”

Harry gives a great heaving sigh like it’s really hard for her to amble three feet to Louis. She drops down next to her and lies on her stomach, hands propping up her head. Louis’ hair is fanned out across the floor like a halo and she’s picking at her nail polish. She looks like a bored model on break while at a shoot. It’s unfair. 

“We should practice,” Harry says, grinning. “We can practice from the floor if you want?”

Louis lights up. “That, Styles, is the greatest idea you’ve ever had.”

Harry rolls onto her back, and with her arm pressed against Louis’ on the floor she can feel Louis take a deep breath. 

“Okay, can I just say something crazy?” she says.

“I love crazy!” Harry exclaims, fluttering her eyelashes. Harry has to fight to keep her giggle down; she’s going to have to learn how to not laugh at this part every time, she doesn’t want to seem unprofessional during the concert.

Louis launches into the song, belting out at the top of her lungs. When Harry’s part comes in she sings while implementing different breathing technics she remembers from choir practice. They sing through the whole song on the floor, drawing many confused stares from people passing by the music room on their way home. 

When they finish the song they dissolve into giggles, Louis’ eyes lighting up and crinkling around the edges. Harry’s head is lolled to the side, her chin resting on her should as she quiets down and watches Louis catch her breath. She has an image of them lying in a field or a bed like this, happy and breathless. Before she can blink and look away, reign herself in, Louis tips her head and they lock eyes.

The room suddenly seems very loud in the silence. 

The laughter slips off Louis’ face and in its wake leaves a soft smile that doesn’t match the look in her eyes. The look she’s giving Harry is fire, bright burning happiness that makes her eyes look so blue that Harry thinks it must be what the sky was based off of. 

There’s a moment where Harry thinks that Louis is moving closer, she must be, she’s so close that Harry can see darker flecks of blue and grey in her eyes and can see mascara clinging to every eyelash. Louis’ so close to her that she can feel the ghost of her breath on her lips.

So it makes sense that’s when the door opens. 

Louis is on her back in her original position before Harry can even blink. She looks so calm and collected that Harry is almost positive she imagined the whole thing. 

“It’s late,” Liam says, leaning against the doorjamb. “The school’s closing up, I’ll drive you two home.”

“Why are you still here?” Harry asks, watching Louis clamber up without a moment’s hesitation. 

“I was in the library,” Liam explains, watching Louis shrug her coat on. Louis’ avoiding his eyes, a faint tinge high on her cheeks that Harry would probably miss if she wasn’t looking for it. “You guys are really into this Christmas concert, yeah?”

“I’m really into getting a good mark, Liam,” Louis says briskly. “Let’s go, I didn’t realize how late it is.”

Harry grabs her coat from where it’s draped over a chair and follows them out of the classroom. It’s freezing and flurrying outside but Harry’s always run hot so she just clutches the coat to her chest and jogs to the car behind Liam and Louis who have, instead, sprinted. 

“Christ, Styles!” Louis calls from where she’s sliding into the passenger seat. “Hurry your skinny arse up, its bloody cold!”

“It’s not that skinny,” Harry pouts once she buckles herself in the middle seat. Louis twists around and fixes her with a look that has Harry giggling into her hand. Louis rolls her eyes but her lips quirk up in a smile before she turns to face the front, which Harry definitely counts as a win.

//

Winning is short-lived.

 

The day before the concert everyone involved gathers in the theatre to do a very basic run-through. Harry’s pretty sure people who have costumes and sets should be concerned with running through their performance with it, but Mr. Winston doesn’t “feel like dragging anything out longer than we have to”.

“Winston’s the worst,” Louis stage-whispers to Harry while they sit in the audience and listen to Mr. Winston drone on about the importance of dress rehearsals after reprimanding a few younger students for horsing around. “If this was _so_ important, why isn’t he doing it right? Why is he the worst drama teacher in the world?”

Harry slaps her hand over Louis’ mouth before Louis’ “whisper” gets any louder; people are already turning to look for the source of complaining. Louis just grins against Harry’s palm and darts her tongue out to lick it. Thankfully Harry is not grossed out by saliva and keeps her hand there until the next performers start. 

Harry drops her hand and giggles when Louis rolls her eyes at her, both of them settling into the seats to watch the performances. There’s more than just their class doing something for the Christmas concert; Harry can tell it’ll be a good one this year. Her and Louis were one of the first to do their dry run, Mr. Winston picking them out of the crowd without either of them even raising their hand. Everyone clapped for them when they finished and they took a very obnoxious bow, pretending to fend off flowers thrown on stage. Eventually Mr. Winston kicks them off stage with a badly concealed smile where they retreated to the back seats to watch the rest. 

 

Harry’s been roaming the halls for twenty minutes looking for Louis after the rehearsal when she finally finds her. Louis had promised to drive Harry home after everything was done so she had gone to grab some stuff from her locker – “I totally forgot to grab my bio text book before winter break started – while Harry chatted with Jade and Perrie. 

She rounds a corner and can hear Louis’ voice coming from a classroom, so she makes her way over to it. The door is half-open, the only light in the classroom is from the brightness outside. There’s snow all over the courtyard and the moon is reflected off of it, shining directly into the room. 

“She can never know,” Louis is saying from where she’s sitting on a desk, her back to the door. 

“What the fuck?” Zayn says. “Why not?” Standing by the wall near the doorjamb Harry can see Zayn’s profile and he looks angry. Harry subconsciously takes a step away from the door; Zayn being angry is never something to be desired. 

“Because she doesn’t need to know, Zayn,” Louis snaps before taking a deep breath and putting her head in her hands. 

“Of course she does,” Zayn says, “Lou, you’re being stupid.”

“She doesn’t need to know I have a crush on her,” Louis says. “She’s like, my best friend you know? You don’t understand, it’s like – god, Zayn, I can’t even explain it to you, how am I going to explain it to her?”

Harry feels her heart stutter and then drop. It’s not like she was waiting on Louis for anything, she’s already resigned herself to the fact that they’re friends and that’s it, but it still hurts to hear her talk about having a crush on someone. She’s also irrationally hurt that Louis didn’t tell _her_ about her crush because she feels like they’re good enough friends that it wouldn’t have been weird. Harry wouldn’t have _let_ it be weird; she’s a good friend, she would have listened to Louis’ woes and helped her as best she could. 

“You don’t have to explain it,” Zayn says slowly, “you just have to show her.” Louis shakes her head like she isn’t hearing what he’s saying and instead just starts talking to the ceiling.

“And it’s like, Harry and I have the concert tomorrow and then it’s my birthday and Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and I have so many family obligations and I don’t want this weighing on my mind, okay? So can we drop it?”

“Probably not,” Zayn says lightly. “You’re making a mistake.” Louis shrugs and jumps off the desk, grabbing her coat. Harry, who’s been gnawing on her thumb nail, instantly turns and walks as quickly and quietly away from the classroom as she can. She makes it outside and hides in the alcove of one of the other entrances so Louis and Zayn don’t spot her and sends two texts.

_TO: Perrie Edwards  
Pez can you come get me in five mins? Please xx _

 

_TO: Louis Tomlinson  
Hiiii. Couldn’t find you so I hitched a ride with Perrie, see you tomorrow! Make sure your vocal chords get some rest x_

She spends a whole minute debating whether or not to add the x, but in the end decides on it because she wants to appear “normal” to Louis. She knows it’s not right to eavesdrop and she didn’t mean to, really, it just kinda happened, but whatever the reason she completely regrets it. Her mum had always warned her about eavesdropping – “Harry, with eavesdropping you will never hear anything that pleases you”, which was true since the last time Harry had eavesdropped on someone purposefully it was to overhear her dad say he was leaving – but something in Harry’s love-addled brain told her standing at the doorway was a good idea.

She hears Louis and Zayn get into Louis’ car, the car doors echoing in the quiet, snowy night. She hears them peel out of the parking only a minute before Perrie drives in.

“What’s wrong?” Perrie asks the second Harry gets into her car. Harry just drops her head back against the headrest and grunts noncommittally. “Ah, I see.”

Perrie doesn’t ask any other questions, just pats Harry’s thigh and drives her home. She takes her up to her room, saying a quick hello to Harry’s parents, and tucks her in, handing her a makeup remover wipe. She watches like a hawk as Harry wipes off her makeup silently, still thinking about what Louis said and being, frankly, shocked at how much it hurt. She shouldn’t feel this strongly. Perrie throws out the wipe and switches off the light on Harry’s bedside table.

“I’m sure whatever it is will be all better tomorrow, yeah?” she says, brushing a strand of hair off of Harry’s forehead. She leans down and pecks Harry’s cheek, murmurs a soft _see you tomorrow, Haz_ and closes the door behind her. 

A text comes into Harry’s phone moments before she passes out for the night, and through squinted eyes she reads what it says.

_FROM: Louis Tomlinson  
you rest your vocals too!!!! see you tmr, we’re gonna smash it!!!! xx_

Harry locks her phone without replying.

//

_FROM: Louis Tomlinson  
where are youuuuuu I’m bored xx_

_HAAAAAAZZZZzzzzzzz_

_no i’m serious now where are u_

_Perrie said she drove you here this morning why cant I find you!! come to the theatre xx_

_are you mad at me :(_

_harry please just come talk to me_

 

Harry locks her phone without opening any of the texts and walks out of the bathroom directly into Zayn.

“Hi,” she squeaks, slipping her phone into her back pocket. Zayn plants his hands on his hips and stares menacingly at her.

“Are you avoiding Louis?” he asks sharply.

“No?” Harry says. She really needs to get better at lying.

“You need to get better at lying,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. He grabs her hand and tugs her towards the theatre. “Lou’s really worried. She went with Niall and Liam to get everyone food, but she told me to find you before she got back.”

“I wasn’t going to miss the performance,” Harry says moodily, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I just didn’t feel like socializing.”

“Since when do you not feel like socializing?” Zayn asks seriously. “Why are you avoiding Louis?”

“No reason,” Harry says, freeing her hand from Zayn’s grasp. They sit in two of the seats at the very back of the theatre and watch as the stage team sets up the lighting and basic background. The public (read: parents of the students) are set to arrive soon so they should really get backstage to start getting ready but there is literally nothing less that Harry would rather do. Okay, maybe a few things, but her point still stands. 

“Did you happen to possibly hear a conversation that I possibly had with Louis yesterday?” Zayn asks, leaning one arm on the armrest so he can lean into her space. “Tell me honestly, Haz.”

“Possibly,” Harry allows, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal, I knew nothing was going to – ”

“Harry,” Zayn interrupts. “I’m going to stop you there and just say, go talk to Louis.”

“Why in the world would I do that?” Harry says. “I’m perfectly fine being friends with her, I don’t need more.”

Zayn stares at her for literally two whole minutes.

“What if she wants more?”

Harry gives him an incredulous look. What kind of friend is Zayn if he’s going to set Harry up for failure like this?

“Zayn, please,” Harry says, sighing. “I don’t need you to mock me.” 

Zayn, in a fit of weird passive aggressive rage, stands up and huffs angrily, scowling down at Harry.

“Just go talk to her!”

 

Harry doesn’t go and talk to Louis, but she spends the remaining time backstage thinking about her. She’s already in her costume, a prince’s outfit just like Hans’, and it’s pretty comfy if she does say so herself. Definitely too much material and a little constricting, probably hard to get off quickly, but comfy nonetheless.

She’s sitting on one of the big black boxes, one of the things that just sits backstage and nobody knows what it’s used for, and people are flat out ignoring her. Which is fine, she’s not in a chatty mood as it is, but she feels even more justified in her pouting. That is, until Louis appears in front of her.

“What the fuck,” she says simply, arms crossed over her chest. She sounds very…light, normal, almost as if Harry’s weird behaviour hasn’t been bothering her, but Harry can tell by the crease in the middle of her forehead and the downturn of the corners of her eyes that it has. 

It’s possible she’s in too deep.

“Hi,” Harry chirps. Stay normal and nobody will suspect a thing.

“What the fuck?” Louis says again, this time her words are dripping with something heavier. She grabs Harry’s hand and drags her to a dark corner, staring at her like she’s the cause of a terrible war.

They’re silent for a second. Harry is absolutely not starting this conversation.

“What did I do?” Louis asks finally, shoulders dropping from where they’ve been tensed. All her breath whooshes out of her, but her arms stay crossed.

“Nothing, it’s not you,” Harry says, worried, reaching out to touch Louis’ elbow. She twitches but doesn’t move her arm out of Harry’s reach. She doesn’t want Louis upset with her, there’s absolutely no reason they can’t stay friends even if Louis has a crush on someone else. “Something I just need to deal with on my own.”

“But,” Louis says, and she’s whining now, “I want to help. You’re my best friend.” Something in Louis’ voice reminds Harry of something but she can’t quite place what. 

“I know, like, I know we haven’t discussed that before,” Louis says to Harry’s silence, “but it’s true. I trust you just as much as I trust Liam and Zayn and anything funny I think of I just, like, have to tell you and that’s the mark of a best friend, right? Like it’s just, I don’t know, I feel like there’s – ”

“Louis,” Harry says. Louis looks at her, mouth half open word half formed. “Shut up.”

Louis’ mouth snaps shut, affronted. 

During Louis’ irrelevant rambling speech it clicked in Harry’s. Louis’ voice, soft and quiet echoing in an empty classroom, _she’s like, my best friend, you know?_. 

In an act of pure craziness, and an absolute shot in the dark, Harry grasps Louis’ writs and tugs her closer. Louis looks up at her and quirks an eyebrow that seems to say, _well, go for it_. So Harry does.

It’s a short kiss, a chaste press of lips on lips. When Harry pulls back, though, she can feel a tingle zipping across her bottom lip. Louis’ staring at her, mouth hanging open, hands clenched into fists. Before Harry can make a run for it – she is an absolute idiot – Louis grabs Harry’s hips and presses her into the wall. 

“If that’s what I’ve got to work with,” Louis murmurs. One of her hands snakes up and curls itself into Harry’s hair, bringing her face down to meet Louis’. Louis opens her mouth for her, her thumb pressing into Harry’s waist, her other hand tugging lighting on her hair. Harry leans into the kiss, hands falling to Louis’ waist so she can drag her closer, changing the angle so Louis’ entire body is pressed against hers. 

It’s everything Harry had imagined.

Louis is all fire, licking into Harry’s mouth like there’s absolutely nothing else she’d rather be doing. Harry is completely on board with that plan, except – 

“You two are up next,” Zayn’s voice says, floating towards them from a few feet away. “Please sort yourselves out, there are children out there.”

Harry breaks away, laughing, hands not letting go of Louis.

“Piss of, Malik,” Louis says, giving him the finger before pecking Harry on the cheek. “To be continued,” she says, winking. 

 

Their performance is going spectacularly. There’s no way they’re not going to get the best mark in the class. They’ve never sounded this good in any of their practices and their choreography is flawless. Harry doesn’t stop smiling throughout the entire performance and plays with the fourth wall to the point where she’s singing half of her lines to the little kids in the front row who are just lapping it up.

Louis sounds incredible and every time they pass each other, Harry will wink and the audience gets the pleasure of hearing Louis smile as she sings. It’s fantastic; it’s the best thing Harry’s ever done, with the best girl.

They harmonize their last _love is an open door_ flawlessly, the audience starting to clap even before they’ve finished the note. Louis laughs at the tail end of it, her eyes bright and crinkly, and it makes the performance that much sweeter. 

The music stops and Harry grabs her hand.

“Can I say something crazy?” she says, dropping to one knee. “Will you marry me?” Louis gasps and looks out at the audience and then at the little girls and boys in the front row sitting on the edge of their seats, staring up at the stage with wide eyes, nodding frantically. 

“Can I say something even crazier?” Harry nods from where she’s perched on her knee, hands enclosed around Louis’. “YES!” 

The audience applauds, some of them cheering along with Harry who picks Louis up and spins her around, laughing. When she sets Louis down, Louis has to grasp her arm so she doesn’t topple over, she’s so dizzy. There’s a split second where Harry knows it’s coming, can see it written on over Louis’ face, but it still almost knocks her off her feet when Louis wraps her arms around her neck and kisses her right there in front of the entire audience.

They start cheering again, a few catcalls thrown in that have to definitely be from Gemma and their friends. The curtains drop directly in front of them, Niall having to physically force them apart to get them off the stage into the dressing room.

“About time,” Zayn says smugly from where he’s sat getting his hair done for his performance. “I’ve been waiting years for this moment.”

Louis lets out a huge, obnoxious groan and covers her ears, looking at Harry.

“I fucking told you he’d be insufferable,” she says.

“Yeah we should totally call everything off,” Harry says before realizing that they haven’t even called anything _on_ yet. Louis grins at her and pinches her bum before darting to the other side of the room to change out of her dress. 

Harry watches her go with a smile on her face and a full heart, and thinks that her last semester of school is going to be the greatest one.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you feel like imagining harry and louis while actually listening to the [song](<a%20href=)!


End file.
